


HH Drabbles

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [60]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Drabble Collection, HYDRA Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-09-27 10:20:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Incomplete works/random shorts/under 1k bits.





	1. A slip

“Damn, Jackie!” Brock enthused behind him, slapping at the button eagerly to bring the target sheet back up to them so he could really look it over. “You killed that guy six ways from Sunday!” 

Jack grins. He loves doing nothing on his days off, he really does, but there’s just something about shooting a gun even on those days that feels good too. “It was alright.” 

“ _Alright_.” Brock mimicked as he makes a face, unimpressed but still grinning. He’s got that gleam in his eye, Jack never misses it especially when it’s followed by a quick look over that says that he can’t wait to get Jack home. Jack knows it too well. Brock’s in a tight tank top that shows off his arms with a snug pair of old blue jeans, just a casual day at the range and the entire get up is looking really good on him today. “ _Alright_ , he says like the asshole he is.” Brock mutters. “Are ya pretty good at bein’ an _alright_ agent, too?”

“I’ve heard some things around the water cooler.” Jack confirms, changing weapons and Brock laughs, shaking his head. Jack’ll never stop feeling proud for inciting that kind of reaction from Brock. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ jackass, I don’t know why I love ya so much.” Brock confesses, still laughing. 

Jack breaks out in a chuckle and it’s only a matter of seconds before it hits the both of them all at once. He can see it in the way Brock’s face freezes, panic taking over in his eyes before it blinks away as if he’s attempting to act natural. Jack knows he’s going to shrug it off, make a joke about it the way he always does when he might not be ready for anything serious. They’ve done this dance a couple of times, near death missions, long separations, Brock’s random _breaks_ because he needs his space. Jack’s really not surprised, it’s Brock’s way of things and if it makes him feel better, he lets him do it.

“Shit,” Brock mutters as he looks down at his hands, clearly frustrated. “I can’t believe this shit. There was a goddamn plan.”

“A plan?” Jack wonders. 

“Yeah, a plan.” Brock says tersely, glaring as he looks back up. “I had this whole thing planned out fer us, a nice meal and candles, all that romantic shit.” 

Brock hates the idea of _a nice meal and candles, all that romantic shit_. Still, Jack feels himself smiling anyway. “You? Planning something romantic?” 

“Fuck you, I can be very romantic, dipshit.” Brock’s frown falls away and he’s smiling again, lips pressed tight together when he’s trying not to laugh. He grabs the front of Jack’s shirt before he can react and yanks him in to press a heated kiss to his lips. Jack’s so thrown off he doesn’t return it, at first at least, before he does. It ends too quickly for his liking and Brock gives him a smug grin. “I’m full of romance, sweetheart.” 

Jack rolls his eyes, “That’s not romance, that’s having a boyfriend with his defenses down. You’re just lucky.”

That gets him a raise of brows and a look of determination that usually ends up in a bad guy kill streak competition Jack’s unaware he’s signed up for. “Wanna bet?”

Jack shrugs, moving in to press chest to chest and say something to push Brock’s buttons. “I love you.” Comes out instead and by the way Brock cocks his head back just barely, he’s clearly not ready for it.

He does smile though, wide and amused, so happy. Yeah, Jack loves him. Completely.

“So, you should do a little more of what you were jus doin’ because that shit was attractive, then we should go home and test that aim of yers with another part of your body.” 

“ _Romantic_.” Jack teases, though he’s already turning towards the guns he’s got set out, he wants something big and powerful in his hands just to egg Brock on.

“Trust me.” Brock smirks, closely watching him choose. “I’m so fuckin’ full of romance Rollins, you’ll be beggin’ me to stop with all the sap. Not jus when we get home, you better be ready to stay in bed fer a few days.” 

“Of course.” Jack muses. 

Brock’s too sure of himself to be saying anything else but the truth and he smiles at that. Frankly, he’s prepared for whatever was going to be thrown his way as long as they’re doing it together. It’s really all that matters to him, he tilts his head down and waits, Brock taking up his cue and leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

Yeah, he’s up for anything with Brock.


	2. Two slow dancers, last ones out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmarks

At midnight on his eighteenth birthday, Brock’s name appears on Jack’s skin. He’s holed himself up in his bedroom the way everyone does, wanting a private moment with the first appearance of their soulmate’s name so they can see it on their very own. He panics and wraps a bandage around his wrist to hide it for as long as he possibly can.

Brock doesn’t have time to see the letters appear on his skin, he already knows who he loves more than life itself. He knows the name that reveals itself isn’t set in stone to be with him and so he ignores it. It’s not until he’s before his bathroom mirror and caught off guard by the letters that cause him to stand there frozen. He barely knows Polish but he knows _that_ name, a name that’s become secondary to adapt to their move easier even if Brock knows the truth.

He traces the letters with his finger, relief that he didn’t realize he needed washing over him. The past year is suddenly explained: the erratic behavior, the too much and too little, the bandage he began to sport to cover his soulmate’s name up.

He leaves the bathroom and goes for his cellphone; it barely rings once before there’s an answer.

“You know, people are supposed to call you on your birthday, not the other way around.” Jack blurts out without a hello, Brock can hear how nervous he is.

“You shoulda told me.” Brock frowns. “For over a year, Jack.” 

There’s a laugh on the other side, like he’s been holding it in for so long. Probably has been. “And you know I wouldn’t have done that to you.” 

“Yeah,” Brock agrees and it feels like everything slowly knits itself into place. “I know. But you’re still an asshole.” 

Jack chuckles, low and easy. Familiar. And Brock can’t help himself but smile to it.


	3. The monster under my bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not cannibalism if they're technically not human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People dead, so there's a tiny bit of that and bites or something. Also amoral characters but then you're reading HH, what does that even mean these days with these guys lol

Jack likes to go on walks.

He leaves small little signs of the route he takes and if Brock’s right (he’s always right), they’ll find a perfect little mess of blood splatter just past the door in some random suburban home like it’s New Year’s all over again.  It’s always a wonderful indication to keep going in and that he hasn’t wasted his time going the wrong way.

Brock tilts his head to the sounds of the front door discreetly closing behind him as he steps over a woman’s leg.  It’s two feet from her body and he’s always a little amused over how quickly Jack turns a stranger’s home upside down in so little time.

He missed him, hasn’t seen him in a few weeks, but knows he will always come back when he’s able to.  He’s unsure of the state Jack’ll be in but at least he’s full up right then, less likely to become feral and not recognize them in a space awash with blood.  An awkward dance is made to avoid the pooling and body parts all strewn about. 

Bucky grimaces as he steps in line next to him with a small shift of his body to avoid the mess of brain and tissue against the wall.  “Those are a lot of teeth marks..”

Brock smirks, peering straight ahead. “So you keep tellin’ me every time we go through this.”

“I wanna make sure you’re listening.” 

“Unfortunately.”

“I’ve been really patient about this but honestly, tell me the truth.  Out of nowhere, he _feeds_?  There’s no folklore mumbo jumbo about it being triggered by the moon or cult summonings?  He just..goes for it?”

“Uh huh.”

“This is the same boyfriend you have consensual and these are your words, _'We have the most amazing sex ever, Buck.'_  You’re super okay with him..you know..after he,” Barnes vague gestures to the mess. “Does this stuff?”

“Yer the one who said I ain’t normal.”

“Yeah,” He makes an abortive noise as he stares distractedly towards the stairs where there’s a dark red streak going _upwards_. Neither want to know. “But I meant like..you being into the smell of Axe, not _this_.” 

“You keep feedin’ me that line like a broken record too.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be saying I told you so one day, Brock.” 

“Pretty sure if he turned on me, I wouldn’t be alive to hear it anyway.”

Bucky’s shoulders ease. “This is all really fucking morbid.”

They follow the trail to the kitchen where Jack has left the fridge open, light streaming across what previously was a pristine white floor and food’s been tossed out this way and that.  He’s at the table, as casual as can be, feet propped up on a second chair and covered in blood he hasn’t even bothered to wipe off his face. In his hand is a small glass dish containing a couple slices of chocolate cake he eats it with a fork, not taking a pause as they enter but giving them his attention with a shift of his gaze.

“You’ve been busy.” Bucky points out with hands shoved into his pockets, not looking his way as he stares at the drag marks from one last corpse failing to reach for the back door.

Brock only smiles wider when he approaches Jack, cake set aside and arms open so he can sit sideways on his lap, mess be damned.  “Hey, Sweetheart.” Arms wrap securely around him and Brock lets his own drape across shoulders.

Jack only makes a small content noise, gathering him as painfully close as he can, face pressing into hair.  “Couldn’t sleep. Got hungry. I keep walking off without thinking..” 

“I know.  M’glad we found ya.” Brock runs his fingers through Jack’s slightly sticky hair, petting it softly. When he finally manages to coax him away from hiding, they kiss and he doesn’t miss the gagging sound Bucky makes in the background 

Jack smiles and Brock rests their foreheads together before there’s a pause and the soft fizz of a beer opening.

“You two are some level of fucked up.  Why am I here again?”

Picking up the half eaten cake, Jack holds it out for him in a kind of apologetic offering and Barnes’ face goes pale.   


A beat goes by, Brock watching because he knows before it happens, and soon Bucky collects himself to take the dish, shrugging absently. “Beggars can’t be choosers and one should never waste cake.  I am going outside though because it’s starting to smell in here and your PDA is really disturbing.” He opens the door and looks back their way. “But then what’s that say about me? I probably won’t even notice if there’s bits of human flesh in this.  Gross Buck, stop talking.” 

They both watch Bucky ramble on as he steps out into the darkness again and Brock presses one last quick kiss to Jack’s lips.  “C’mon, let's get you home.” 

 


	4. Forced Babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kid fic

Jack grins wide. It’s rare to see that expression on him. He seems to realize Brock is staring and straightens up, a burble of sound escaping in demand of his attention from the bassinet.

“Something on my face?” Jack asks.

Brock only frowns harder.

“Stop making that expression, look at how adorable he is! You can’t be that wound up about this.” 

Huffing in annoyance, Brock peeks back into the cradle. TJ’s so tiny, smaller than any baby he’s ever seen before. Granted, he hasn’t seen many babies but still, he was definitely premature. It’s another wonder on why he’s here, he’s barely old enough to have motor control but he’s left under the supervision of ex-Hydra agents. 

He watches him wave loose fists in the air, he seems to reach out for Jack a moment before half his fist goes into his mouth smearing drool along his cheek. He has the palest color of grey in his eyes as they stare widely his way and Brock can tell by the dopey way Jack watches, he’s thrilled about the visit.

“I guess I ain’t.” Brock mumbles out. “Still, Fury’s got some kinda brain damage tellin’ us to babysit this thing instead of leavin’ it with CPS or somethin’. And don’t you even dare think about gettin’ attached, I can see yer thinkin’ about it with that dumb expression on that ugly mug of yers.” 

“He still needs to be protected, we’re all he has for the next couple of days.” Jack murmurs low as he leans back towards TJ again.

He reaches his large hand out for the baby to take as Brock watches and his mind flits momentarily to the fact that his boyfriend could easily crush his skull if he wanted to. Guilt quickly sinks in as TJ makes a terrible uncoordinated attempt to reach for fingers; his moves are so awkward and jerky that Brock feels like he needs to teach him a thing or two about moving comfortably in his own skin when he’s older. Pausing at that thought, Brock frowns to himself once he realizes there’d be no way the kid would be with them that long either way. 

“Don’t upset ‘im, I’m not stickin’ around if there’s a cryin’ baby stayin’.” Brock warns, dropping the idea of having someone to teach his skills to.

“He won’t cry.” Jack counters. “He’s been good ever since I brought him over. TJ’s really calm and I have experience with keeping them quiet, trust me.” 

Brock can’t believe everything that comes out of Jack’s mouth. He tends to spew bullshit with his honesty just to screw around with people because he’s a little fucker like that. Sure he’s seen him handle a kid or two while out on missions but never enough where he’s had ample experience with babies so if he’s doubtful on trusting him, Brock has those reasons.

Jack has TJ in his arms now, swaddled in a soft blue blanket tucked against the crook of his arm while he rocks him gently. TJ’s got his tiny hand wrapped securely around Jack’s pinkie with no obvious plans to let go and his boyfriend begins to hum softly to him, a small smile across his lips. Brock scowls before his face smooths out to a sudden idea.

“Adoption.” He blurts out abruptly.

“What?” Jack asks, too focused on the baby to bother looking over his way.

“The kid. We should adopt ‘im, I mean if Fury let us and ya want ‘im.” Why’s he talking? He’s used to running his mouth, but not like this. “M’sure I remember ‘im sayin’ he ain’t got a home and he needs protection, yeah? We can give ‘im both.” 

Jack’s body goes all rigid and he stops moving to turn and face Brock. “Don’t make dumb jokes.” He says it softly, like he’s disappointed in him and it only makes Brock more determined. “You can’t say things like that, it’s not funny.” 

“And who’s sayin’ I’m jokin’? It’s clear all over yer face how you feel about ‘im. You could, I mean we, us- Both of us can do it as a team together, can find the best people to help us and you said yerself how much experience you got from before.” 

He only shuts up when Jack takes a step towards him, his face unreadable even with TJ still in his arms like it’s completely natural and they belong together. It makes Brock’s stomach flip and his chest flutter in that way he feels too exposed. He realizes too late he’s been feeling like this since the baby arrived and he’s only now addressing it. Closing in the space between them, Brock falls in at Jack’s side and watches TJ continue to suck on one fist while gripping to Jack’s finger for dear life with the other. He still can’t get over how tiny he is and Brock cycles through every little way the situation can backfire on them. 

It’s when TJ takes his fist out of his mouth and lets it rest idle against his chest before he’s suddenly smiling his way, all gummy and wide, that Brock comes to know he’s completely fucked no matter what happens because he’s just as attached as Jack already.

Brock swallows thickly and TJ watches him in silence for a while longer before he’s going back to drooling against his fist.

“How about we get through these next couple of days first and then we can talk about it.” Jack says quietly. 

Brock can’t form any words together and instead he leans against Jack’s side with a nod, silently reaching out so he can move aside the blanket corner making it’s way towards TJ’s mouth. The wet hand reaches out and pats softly against Brock’s wrist and Brock offers up his thumb to hold, a gurgle of noise escaping the baby as he smiles up at him again. 

“He really likes you.” Jack notes and Brock only feels himself smile a little, wiggling his thumb once little fingers tighten around it.

"Who doesn't?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For someone that really doesn't read kid fics, I'm surprised I talk about them quite a lot. :P


	5. It's Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut or something. I heard Cheerleader by Grizzly Bear and had to write something.

Brock usually fucks like a starving man to food and he does it like he’s got other things to do in his day once it’s all over. He sucks in a sharp intake of air when his buttons scatter across the floor and keeps his mind on where the door is, always at a certain degree like he’s unsure he should even be here and two seconds from getting the hell out.

He followed Jack home like a wayward puppy after they got back on US soil and it was supposed to only be for the promise of a cold beer and familiar company. Having sex in his bedroom definitely wasn’t what either of them had in mind but Brock finds he can’t say no to him, especially when he stares at him like he’s two steps from eating him alive.

“I should be home.” Brock tosses out aimlessly. He’s sprawled out on a king size bed without shirt, his jacket lost somewhere between the couch and the hallway. The mattress itself is covered with soft supple sheets and it feels cool against his skin while Jack works to get his pants off of him. “Was plannin’ a date with my tub and a bottle of red.”

Jack pauses a second, stares down at him and then he’s undoing his own belt from its loops. “I was planning to sleep, for at least the whole night if I could chance it.” The buckle hits the wood floor with a loud thud, his clothes landing down on top of it. Once he’s done, he climbs onto the bed after him and drops to sit against the headboard. Brock lets himself be pulled onto his lap when Jack tugs at his wrist. “Thinking of barbecuing tomorrow.”

Brock grins as his eyes close, allows Jack’s fingers to brush down his chest feather-light. “You’d think after ya blew that safehouse up with them insurgents, barbecue woulda been the last thing on yer mind, but alright.”

It’s quiet after that for a long minute. There’s a familiar hum of an airplane passing by overhead and daylight sinks away as night arrives quickly after it. Brock’s antsy the longer it takes to get to where they should be though it soon slips away at the first hungry press of Jack’s mouth.

His possessiveness bleeds in immediately, turns every kiss after the first into bruises and the wandering of his hands grip him in desperation, the large span of them touching everywhere at once, so ravenous. There’s no way to guess as to how much control he’s put on himself to keep in check in front of the team, to be able to finally let go it’s almost overwhelming for Brock to witness.

“Tell Pike you’re not interested.” Jack states bluntly when two fingers are slicked and inside, crooks them sharply when Brock doesn’t say anything back. He didn’t know someone else had even been looking. “He doesn’t deserve anything.” 

The _especially not you_ is implied between them when Brock opens his eyes to stare at him and there’s a deep seeded intensity he’s only seen when Jack is working.

“He’ll get himself blown up soon enough either way.”

Brock knows there’s been a sharp rise in _incidents_ lately, it’s been subtle but he’s noticed. He forgets about them when Rollins works in a third.

They fuck like lovers would, both upright, chest to chest and their stomachs brushing on exhale with Brock’s legs folded and his knees pinched tight against Jack’s hips. Something gnaws at the back of his mind, both hands gripping around the bars of the headboard and sweat saturating his skin. 

“This is a mistake.” He says finally, forehead pressed to Jack’s cheek, curled as close as he can to his body and Jack clings, rids them of any breadth of space between them.

“Yeah.” Jack agrees with no real confidence behind it. He tips Brock’s face with a hand on his jaw and their lips meet- it’s lazy, the wet slip of tongues and their mouths held open to share sounds and hot air.

“You need me..” Jack says when he’s close, his hips snapping up to meet Brock on his downstroke and there’s no denial of it. He bites at Brock’s lip, his chin, scrapes his teeth over stubble. “I know exactly what you need.”

Brock cums to those words alone and tries to smother the startled surprise against Jack’s jaw.

After, when Jack’s pulled out and they’re damp with each other’s sweat, Brock doesn’t leave. He allows himself to stay in Jack’s lap with his head bowed between them, catching his breath and letting his head clear. Jack’s palms continue to roam along his skin, reads him well enough that he knows exactly when Brock wants to lay back and stretch out against the bedding again. His feet can’t reach the end like Jack’s can, but he lets his big toe trace around his calf, barely any space left between them once again. “I’ll bring over some steaks from my butcher tomorrow, you’ll love ‘em.”

Jack pushes his hair back out of his face and lights a cigarette, taking a puff before passing it over to him. “Yeah?” He seems genuinely surprised and Brock’s pleased. “Wasn’t sure you’d be in the mood.”

Brock accepts and takes a drag, closes his eyes to Jack’s fingers brushing back his bangs. He feels the bed shift when Jack’s up and heads for the bathroom. He’s tempted to watch after him but doesn’t. Lets himself get wiped down and positioned so he’s able to drape his arm around Jack’s waist and rub his nose along his shoulder. He eyes the door one last time before he gives up on it entirely.

“You might be surprised in all the things I’m in the mood fer.”


	6. Make him shut up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one stops abruptly but I'd like to think they figured it out ;) Also, handjob.

It just happened so suddenly. God’s honest truth, and it’s what he’ll testify to in court if he has to and that’s the end of that.

Sometime during the night it had somehow turned into a dick measuring sort of competition and Brock’s quite prepared to admit that Jack has an advantage if they were actually measuring because after all he’s a big guy, and it’s totally proportional, right? 

And side note, it’s not how big it is anyway, it’s what you do with it. Brock’s never had any complaints with his own dick except from stupid fucking Grant Ward but then again everyone knows he’s an asshole, so that’s not a strike against Brock’s abilities, nope.

It’s not like Brock spends all his time thinking about Jack’s dick, you know? Because thinking about your Second’s dick would be completely weird, right? Yeah, it would be. Sure. Who’d do that?

Besides the point anyway. Jack’s stories are getting a bit much and Brock’s feeling a little too out of his mind to compete anymore. He kind of wishes he’d left when Bucky and Clint took their leave over an hour ago and he’s definitely shelving a mental note to tell them off when he sees them next time because they should have known him better than to leave him when he’s in trouble. Jack keeps on going, talking about his exploits like he hasn’t even scratched the damn surface and he’s watching him sprawled out against the couch with that smug expression he really wants to wipe off that stupid face of his.

Somewhere in the back of his head he feels that inkling to stop now while he’s ahead but he also has the mind to know that he has to teach Jack a lesson, it’s a thing alright? Need to put your men in place and shit like that so he ignores that little voice for now, it doesn’t know better than him so fuck it.

That’s exactly when the idea to kiss him comes up. It’s a very terrible and bad idea that Brock’s just drunk enough to accept as a great idea and go for it. He’s swinging his leg across Jack to straddle his lap before he has time to really get down to the nitty-gritty of pros and cons and plants his hands along the back of the couch to steady himself and then he just goes for it. He’s aware it’s sloppy and a little wet with maybe too much tongue and he’s waiting for Jack to freak out, to knock him on his ass and tell him to get the hell out. Which, in hindsight, would definitely be something Brock doesn’t want because he kind of likes Jack, they work well together if he’s being honest with himself but right now he has a point to make and he’s gonna do it no matter what. That point was to shut Jack up..he thinks. Or something.

Except Jack’s not freaking out, he’s really not. In fact he’s holding him closer with his hand pressed against the back of Brock’s skull and keeping him there, his other hand Brock feels on his ass and drags him in a bit more. It should be so wrong but it’s so not. Jack’s kissing him back too, kissing him like he’s unloading so much onto him, it’s intense and deep, nothing’s held back and it’s like nothing anything Brock’s ever felt before. It’s so hot that Brock moans into Jack’s mouth he can’t help himself, and while he’s willing to admit when something is he will kill Rollins if that bit of information gets leaked out. 

He’s so gone and he knows it, dizzy for more and his fingers tighten around the fabric of the couch. Jack must be some sort of amazing mind reader, and it’s not the first time Brock’s noticed that with him, he’s also fucking hot and irritatingly perfect while being an asshole all at once. He’s got his hands on Brock’s fly and his mouth hasn’t even stopped or pulled away. He feels Jack jerk at his zipper when it doesn’t cooperate with him but then it does and hastily his jeans are open. 

His boxers are shoved down and Jack’s hand is hot and rough on his skin as he grips around him, strokes him off a couple times hard and quick and then _fuck_ , the man really is good at everything because somehow he’s managed to get both of their cocks in that huge fucking hand of his and he’s jerking them both off together. Brock breaks the kiss because this is his first time getting anywhere like this with Jack and it’s just something he must see.

He may have looked at a skin flick of the gay variety maybe twice..or twenty times, he doesn’t exactly keep count, but this is better than any he’s ever watched, it really is because Jack’s cock is bigger than any of those actors and a lot better looking up close than the minor glances he may have stolen whenever they were taking showers at the same time. He wants to savor this moment, let it drag on forever but he knows he can’t because it’s Jack he’s with and who’s touching him like this, it’s too good and so wrong and so fucking _right_ all at once.

He cums hard between them, all over Jack’s hand and against their clothes. He closes his eyes and drops his forehead against Jack’s, listening to the filthy wet sounds of him finishing himself off. While he’s happy right now at that second, he’s sobering up enough to wonder how the hell he’s going to face Rollins back at work.


	7. Promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh possessive behavior I guess. XD

“..I thought you were dead.” 

Jack says it so quietly, so soft. Brock almost wonders if he hallucinated the words, like he wished them instead of just hearing them come out of Rollins’ mouth, but it’s in his eyes. They’re lost, haunted in a way Brock’s only seen on nights when his nightmares are really bad or the one time he failed to pull the trigger.

It’s a look he’s never wanted to be the cause of, but things always have a way of coming out of nowhere. It’s exactly how he ended up launched into the air from the force of an explosion he wasn’t ready for, it wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t for the debris that hit him while up there. A metal bar tearing into him without any effort and he was struck helpless.

He was fine though. Jack managed to keep him conscious and aware until they evacuated him to a hospital with the bar still stuck in him, but he knows, _could hear_ the way Jack was shaking.

Brock can’t do much, weak and hopped up on meds, he does however give Jack’s hand a brief squeeze. “M’fine.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.” Jack confesses, low and ashamed, if he hadn’t been sitting next to the hospital bed Brock wouldn’t have even heard him. 

All this space between them is killing Brock.

“I never meant to do that to ya.” 

“You can’t..” Jack rubs his thumb along Brock’s knuckles before he brings them up to his lips to leave kisses, goes along his fingers, his palm, then presses it to his own cheek as he locks eyes with him, silently begging. “You’re not allowed to ever leave. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, Jackie. I do.” He really does. It’s not the first time they’ve gone through this, had these moments and Brock’s been in Jack’s shoes as well. He’s more intense now, not hiding away how possessive he is over him and he doesn’t mind it.

“Promise me.”

Brock’s smile shifts into a grimace. “You know there ain’t no way I can promise ya that.”

“ _Brock_.”

Jack looks manic; it’s not because he hasn’t bothered to run a comb through his hair in so many days, not because he’s been clearly sleeping in the uncomfortable looking armchair next to his bed, or because he’s barely eating and knows Bucky’s been bringing him things to change into. It’s his eyes, a different kind of vibrant green, pleading with Brock to stay by his side and ground him as he’s always done. He’s so close to losing all bouts of control.

“I love ya, Jackie. I’ll always love ya and that's somethin' I can promise.”

Jack’s shoulders ease a bit.

It’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever tells me Jack is running with a full deck is a dirty, dirty liar. <3


	8. Give me an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably late HS-aged fledgling vampire kinda blood drinking/sex..stuff. *hand waving*

This wasn’t the plan, not entirely at least. He wanted to tell Brock the truth, explain why he couldn’t be around him, and that it was dangerous. That he cared too much to let anything happen even if Brock never saw them as anything but just friends, never hinted for more..until now. Now it’s different when he’s pressed down on the bed and there’s barely light from his window to reveal just how awful this could be for the both of them.

Jack still can’t believe it, how he’s allowed to touch. His fingers move slow, like they’re traveling through honey, barely skimming the skin just over Brock’s collarbone, careful and cautious because what if it’s not exactly what he wants? Brock may then just pull away and that can’t happen, not now.

He’s almost vibrating under his own skin, taut and restrained. His lower lip drags on the curve of muscle between Brock’s shoulder and throat, his tongue darts out to have a taste and, _oh god_. Brock is warmth and salt and too much for this world and also not enough. Jack’s throat tightens, shudders a little, his fingers press down as he barely stops himself from sinking his teeth into skin.

Brock goes stiff beneath his hands. A low groan dwells within his chest, a growl that Jack can feel but not hear.

“Sorry..” Jack slurs, almost drunk off just being in his presence alone, pulling back and dropping his forehead to Brock’s shoulder, drawing his hands away. “I- I _can’t-_ ”

“ _God_ , Jack.” Brock curses, his hand coming down on the back of Jack’s neck, holds him there; firm and sure. “Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

There’s corded muscle under Jack’s lips, the pulse jumps in Brock’s throat. “Are you gonna kill me if I bite you?” 

His fists clench on Brock’s shoulders as he tries to keep his nails away from the skin. He wants to hang on, to dig in and really feel the flesh under his hands and mouth. He wants to devour Brock whole and keep him forever. Instead he parts his lips, drags his tongue over the pulse and fights the urge to sink those fangs in that slowly reveal themselves without his knowledge, something he’s still learning to control. He wants to bite in and cling until his jaw aches.

Brock shivers and arches beneath him. “No. I don’t- I want that. I want you, stupid.” He’s rambling, his heart beating hard as his hips roll and press up, sweat slick between them. God, Brock is beautiful when he’s naked, Jack wishes he could have him like this all the time. “Do it.”

Jack whimpers softly at permission given so easily and a small fragment of control crumbles away as he digs his toes into the mattress and rocks down. He groans, the sound muffled with his mouth locked to Brock’s throat only laving at it, fingers pressed at the nape of his neck encouraging him to do it, to follow through. It doesn’t take too much convincing and fangs sink in so very easily while his palms curl around Brock’s biceps and holds him down, there will be bruises soon, he already knows.

It’s good though. He holds on with his teeth and his hands, the warm thick gush of blood filling his mouth and _oh_ , it’s much better than he realized. Brock is stiff beneath him, though he holds a soft tremor inside of him. He’s moving soon again, eyes hooded as he tightens his legs around him, the heel of his foot putting a little more pressure on him to go as deep as possible. Jack grinds his hips down, slow and rolling, it’s pure instinct, a desire he’s wanted even before everything changed, always the need to press Brock deeper into the bed with each thrust.

_I’m going to keep you._ He decides. _Never letting go._

Brock lets out a small, bitten off whimper. He gasps, sucking air in quick gulps, then goes still and silent as warm, sticky wetness spreads between them.

Jack groans, his mouth still pressed to skin, draws fangs away when his heartbeat slows a tick and laps at the marred flesh like he’s been shown to do. When he knows he’s fine, his hands drag down, collecting at Brock’s hands and tangles their fingers together. He moves them at either side of Brock’s head, presses them in against the pillow and stares down at eyes that look back at him with way too much trust. It’s then that he moves, a small drunk smile playing at Brock’s lips.

“Do it, Jackie.” Brock murmurs drowsily. “Jus let go.” 

Something twists in Jack’s chest, painful and tight, it chokes at him as he gasps out when Brock tightens around his cock.

The blood is still coating his mouth, heavy on his tongue when Brock wills him in for a kiss. Everything goes quiet in Jack’s mind when he does, knows now fully that they’re in it together for the long haul, that Brock is his to keep; it’s only then that he cums, much too pleased for a creature like him.


	9. To do this forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In every au Jack always does shit like this, I don't know.

It’s just a normal Monday when it happens.

Jack’s at the table, his eyes mainly on the newspaper he still gets delivered to his house despite all the guff he gets from Brock about being an old man. It doesn’t take long though for his eyes to stray off bold and blackened headlines and over the paper to where he is, standing before the stove in nothing but much too tight boxer briefs and way too many bruises; some come from their nights together and others are dealt from being on the field. He’s a real sight for sore eyes either way, his dog tags glinting against the natural light shining in from the window nearby. Jack’s seen this image so many times before, it’s one of his favorites actually, and his mind supplies that it would like to keep seeing it for all the years to come.

It’s at that point that he realizes he actually can, all the time, every day for the rest of his life forever. There’s nothing at all to stop Brock from lounging around in next to nothing while telling him to stop staring like some creep, both knowing he’s joking as Brock clearly preens to the attention. 

This is what they do as a morning routine for a long while; Brock at the stove talking shit towards the bacon threatening to scald him (he’s learned to put it on the back burner as of late when he’s not wearing a shirt or that pink frilly apron that was given to him as a gag gift), some sort of frittata cooks with whatever he finds in the fridge, fruit is cut and some kind of bread tags along. Jack almost always sits himself at the table with a cup of coffee or something fancier if he’s in the mood while he tries to wake up, and makes sure to stay out of Brock’s hair. He feels like this is his life now and he’s not going to be one to complain about that.

It’s almost picture perfect. Everything he wants that he didn’t know for a long time he wanted, the person most important to him accounted for, and he gets to take his fill of the sight of him, but Jack does notice it feels like it’s not entirely complete. Not exactly.

He studies Brock again, trying to realize what it is. Watches him grate a small amount of parmesan across the cast-iron skillet holding the eggs and thinks to himself. It’s only when his finger itches a moment and he rubs his thumb along it that the idea takes a hold. 

“Brock.” Jack calls, resting the paper down on the table. He resists smiling when Brock turns to scowl at him for interrupting. Jack gives him a slow, hungry once over again because he can’t help himself and gets a disgusted sound back that they both know is a lie.

“That look better be fer the food, I didn’t waste my time makin’ all this so it’ll be cold because ya wanna get yer dick wet.” 

Jack grins wider, fond. His mind momentarily thinks about the bedroom before he pushes it aside completely and leans back against his chair. “Do you want to go down to the court house later?”

Blinking in confusion, Brock stares at him, trying to figure out what exactly is his game. “What fer?”

“So we can get married.” He responds casually, a little shrug thrown in for the hell of it. His eyes draw downward to the table, picking up his coffee mug to take a sip, the top half of his newspaper going up again and he’s back into the local news.

The silence in the room is heavy. Jack glances back up at Brock, who hasn’t moved for the last few moments, fine grater still in hand. He takes in the surprise on Brock’s face, eyes him carefully and slowly that surprise shifts as he turns his head up slightly to stare back. This was where Jack was mentally tossing a coin to himself; heads and Brock was considering it, or tails and he was about to launch into some sort of tirade asking what the hell was wrong with him. 

He’s unresponsive for a too long amount of time and Jack raises a brow. “Unless you’re not ready to.” He sips at his coffee again, nonchalant. “I can ask another time, it just felt right at the moment.” 

He takes in a couple more headlines and skims the articles, it’s another long minute before Jack hears him speak up. “Yeah, maybe it does. Shitty proposal though, you owe me a better one that I can show off later.” 

Jack looks up again and by the time he does, Brock’s turned back to the stove and returning to breakfast. He’s smiling though, well the corner of his mouth is turned up a little and the sun casts him in a soft, sweet light Jack can’t get over. His thumb grazes at his ring finger once more and he smiles to himself, turning the page in his newspaper, life settling back in like any other day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding fics generally bore me, I like dumb proposals instead. :P


	10. Babysitting services

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam doesn't know if Jack really wants to eat the baby or not and he's afraid to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam pov, Jack making cannibal jokes because..reasons.

“I’m going to eat this baby.” 

Jack held the infant up before him, hands tucked under his armpits and examining it like he was shopping for something in particular. The baby stared back in quiet awe, eyes wide and half a fist parked into his mouth.

Sam froze, looking up from the diaper bag.  His eyes shot from Jack, then immediately to Brock, who was watching the whole thing with his arms folded over his chest.  “Is he kidding, or are we going to have a problem?”

“Jack, don’t eat the baby.” Brock warned, an amused smirk across his face.  He turned back to him and shook his head like kids say the darnedest things. “He’s fuckin’ jokin’.  He don’t eat kids.” 

_ He don’t eat kids _ rings out like the phrase means  _ he eats adults but not kids _ and Sam’s too damn tired to ask.  As long as TJ’s safe, he’s okay with cannibal Rollins, or whatever sense of shitty humor he has.

“Too late, got my hands on him.  He’s going into the soup pot.” Jack shot back as he sat down on the couch, laying TJ onto the cushion and gingerly pulling his fist out to offer a pacifier instead. 

Sam was going a paler shade by the second and Brock gave him a look.   


“He’s  _ kiddin’.   _ I swear, Wilson.  Cross my heart and all that crap.  He loves kids- not to eat. Jack, yer makin’ my life complicated.” 

Jack slid his hand across TJ’s stomach, bunching his little rainbow striped sweater up to expose his round little belly, giving it a soft pat. “Yep, ripe and ready for dinner.” 

Sam stared in horror as Jack leaned over and pressed his mouth to the skin above TJ’s navel before blowing a raspberry on it and eliciting a fit of giggles from the baby, chubby fisted hands grasping at handfuls of Jack’s dark hair.  Sam still felt unsettled, but these two were his only hope.

“Can you please, you know, not be weird while I’m here?” He groaned, pressing a hand to his face. “I’m honestly not sure if I’ll ever get your sense of humor, you did work for the bad guys.  This kid may have been safer leaving him in a church.” 

“Nah, priests are there.  Bad news.” Jack remarks as he grins down and blows another raspberry, then kisses TJ’s fingers when little hands reach for his face. 

Rumlow’s grinning now, his eyes have that dumb fondness again that Sam really finds disconcerting.  They both have that look, he’s seen it numerous times, and every time it gets creepier instead of something he should be used to.

Somehow Winter slips inside from the fire escape and scares the shit out of him, even though it’s in his peripheral vision.  It’s proof of how fucked up this whole bottom of the barrel situation really is.

If the team finds out..

“They won’t.” Winter mutters like he can read his mind. 

Sam watches him pick the diaper bag up with his metal arm - _ his end of discussion arm _ \- and offer it up to Rumlow, who takes it like he’s being handed the morning paper.  Sam accepts that as his cue to get the hell out because if he says something to piss them both off then all hopes of working this out are going to end up being another thorn in his side.

Winter closes the door after they’re out with a neat click and walks down the hallway beside him.  A young mother and her small daughter greet them with a smile as they pass and an old woman is watching TV with the door wide open, giving them a wave like it’s normal to just hang out like that. 

Winter responds like any normal person would, despite the fact that he’s  _ not  _ normal.  Plus his smile is scary as all hell, he’s wearing his black leather getup and his metal arm is out for all to see. Sam’s not any better, he’s in his Falcon gear and they’ve been fighting; they smell like blood and other gross things. This isn’t exactly incognito stuff.  


No one cares though, or even bats an eye and he doesn’t know what that even means.  He’s got a million questions but he’s still afraid of asking a single one of them. 

He’s definitely fucked when the team finds out where they put TJ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain, when I said I wanted to write cannibal Jack, this is not what I had in mind thank you very much.


	11. Beard burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When a lot of your daily convo is about a certain someone's ass, something's bound to get written up. Also I finished a chapter of my big bang, proud of myself.

Brock jerks his face out of the pillow and twists sharply to look back at Jack. “The fuck ya doin’ back there?”

The warm and hazy afterglow affects disperse quickly as he feels a couple more drops of something hit the curve of his ass just before Jack rubs his large warm hand along it.

“I said what’re ya doin?” He repeats again as Jack holds him down when he tries to flip over.

“Stop moving. Or you’ll get this stuff on the blankets and then get pissed off about it.” He chuckles to himself like he's some kind of fucking comedian. “I mean, you already got stuff on them but this’ll make it worse.”

“So then tell me. What the hell did ya put on me?”

“Rosehip oil.” Like Brock’s supposed to figure it out just by that. “It’s good for beard burn. I checked it out online after the last time.”

Brock huffed. “I don’t need that shit.”

“Brock.” Jack pauses, his hand still on Brock’s ass like it belongs there. Brock supposes he doesn’t mind that it seems like it should. “If you could see what it looks like right now, you wouldn’t be saying that. Do you really want a repeat of that time Fury was trying to hold a meeting and you took it upon yourself to pace in the back or lean against the wall instead of parking your ass down in your chair? There’s also the chance of someone seeing it in the showers, and then you’re not going to hear the end of it.” 

“No one should be lookin’ at my ass in the showers.” He grumbles out against the pillows.

“Everyone looks at your ass. You know this, _I_ know this. I was checking it out the first day I saw you, you’re lucky I’m patient.” 

Brock doesn’t have to look back to know Jack’s smirking about it, he's always in a lighter mood after they fuck. He groans. “Maybe if ya weren’t actin’ like a dog achin’ fer a bone the moment we got time alone.”

“That wasn’t what you said earlier. All I heard was, ‘ _fuck Jack, yeah, deeper, right there, like that_ ’.”

Brock kicks his leg and there's laughing behind him. Then he feels the bed shift a little as Jack bends down and kisses the left cheek and then the right. It only takes Brock back to Jack’s lips and tongue before teeth come into play and fingers not long after. He feels himself flush hot all over and the rosehip oil is suddenly a welcome relief as is the way Jack’s hands begin to massage his ass in a slow circular motion.

“Just shut up and let me take care of you.” Jack orders and Brock weighs the pros and cons of arguing back just before he shuts up and lets himself melt back into the mattress.


	12. I'm only good at bein' bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheating/dick warning XD 
> 
> Trying out a cheating fic, then I got bored of said cheating fic lol

If they’d just fuck at Jack’s little brownstone or in Brock’s shitty dive of an apartment, things would be smarter, easier.  It’s the many hotel rooms they book together under different names and different aliases knowing they’re trying to hide under an already scrutinizing organization that’s one day going to give them away.

But it’s the blandness of the room, the mute colors, the lack of familiar scents and bargain bin paintings that make things more real.  When Jack’s pressing Brock’s face into his own down-filled pillows at the apartment, or kneeling between his legs in front of Brock’s couch with the TV on as white noise, or when Brock gets himself shoved up against the wall with the rain style shower head running above him in the brownstone, Brock forgets a lot of things he shouldn’t.  The tedium of a hotel room says this is temporary, that it’s not supposed to last. It helps Brock remember their time together is never meant to be and everything is a lie.

So when they’re both back on home soil, ready to leave and Jack says, _come over to hang out_ , Brock shakes his head and tells him to drive them to their favorite hotel.  Jack’s mouth is a tight thin line; unhappy and hiding those telltale signs of disappointment Brock’s been catching a lot lately, it goes with the way his hands curl up into fists before he releases them and only nods tiredly. They travel parallel to a dream-like hazy glow of oranges and pinks lighting up across the sky in silence and Brock can’t help run the back of his knuckles across the window staring off at it.  There’s a few times he feels Jack is staring at him when they’re stuck at a red light, but he doesn’t look back, he can’t and when it’s finally too much to handle he shuts his eyes against the bleed of colours washing across his face.

"You know how much I hate this." Jack says when they’re finally in the room, standing across from each other at either end, tension filling in between them. "I wish you’d let me- "

"Whadda ya want from me?" Brock cuts in sharply. "I can’t change shit, you fuckin’ know that."

The broken line of Jack’s mouth only gets tighter and Brock slips out of his coat, drapes it against the chair next to him.

This is how they always do things, usually.  Sometimes there’s exceptions, soft and sweet ones, but they’re few and far because they’re made that way.  Most of the time Jack gets frustrated at him and Brock gets mad at the world for putting him in this shitty outcome. They eventually fuck and no matter what, Jack ends up draped over him like a large and languid cat that can’t stop himself from greedily taking him in.  He tells him things Brock wishes he didn’t hear, things that make him pine for more. It’s always the same, and Brock manages to redirect the pain to something more physical when he gets home or at work so it doesn’t linger.  


Jack slowly strips his own clothing away, the curtains wide open and the glow of the city awash over him, baring skin to Brock’s hungry gaze.  Brock’s own fingers move downwards and he works on the buckle of his belt, secured tight around his waist. Jack is suddenly there, slips into his space without a sound despite his movements all drawn-out and brilliant; the very weight of his full-on strength closed off to the point where he’s left defenseless and even almost small in a way, insistent and seeking until Brock is stripped down bare, not all of his clothing fallen away as of yet but some other things are.  They’re playing a dangerous game every time and yet, they can’t help keep away from each other.  


"I wish I was him."  


Brock bites down at his lip, so hard that he feels the sharp sting and then the metallic taste he’s all too familiar with.  Hates that Jack wishes that placement upon himself.

Jack sinks his teeth into Brock’s shoulder, blunt pressure on muscle, and Brock tips back his head with a grunt.  He curls his fingers into Jack’s hair and yanks, drawing his head back with a vicious snap until his throat is exposed and vulnerable to Brock’s mouth, it would only take one swift move-

"I wish you were ‘im, too." Brock inflicts instead, licking his apology along the column of Jack’s neck.

Jack doesn’t forgive him, never does when Brock attempts to disguise things, finds his stomach unguarded with an elbow instead, knocking his breath away as he stumbles back slightly.  His hip hits the dresser, only jarring things before he slides his hands across the smooth surface and then his back is left exposed. It’s then that Jack steps in, crowding his space again, Brock’s fly is unzipped and everything pulled down to the floor.  


Fingers slide down the curve of his ass and Brock can’t help the bodily shiver just as two fingers slip in much too easily.

“For me?”

“Who fuckin’ else?” He snaps back, irritable but he drops his head back on Jack’s shoulder. “I need to forget, Jackie.”

"You’re it for me." Jack says against his jaw, his lips delicate, voice all soft but certain of this bit of information. "No matter who you’re seen with, Brock, no matter how important they are.  You’re it for me, I’m yours.”  


Fingers are replaced by the blunt head of his cock and Brock takes him in, slow and agonizing.  He closes his eyes and believes him, if only in this one fragile moment between them, that he’s only for Jack.  Forever and always his.

It’s the one and only time he truly feels free again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from Bad Guy by Billie Eilish because it's constantly stuck in my head lol


	13. A small problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorting through abandoned work. I had this whole idea of Brock trying to tolerate a deaged Bucky but I got lazy XD

He walked into the tent and immediately stopped when he saw what looked like Jack cradling his balled up coat to his chest, it wasn’t until the thing inside it moved a little and he saw brown hair that he acted, narrowing his eyes.

“Is that a kid in there? Where you find a damn _kid_ in a Hydra base? I thought the place was practically abandoned?”

“Thought so too.” Jack bit back. “But recon didn’t do their damn homework. While you were on top deck and I was checking the lower one, _this one_ \- ” He gestured to the bundle. “He and Cap went through the middle like we planned except there was some lazer beam..gun thing that shot whoever came through first and- ”

Brock put his hands up to stop him. “And what..? Wait, _this one_?”

Jack nudged at the bundle on the floor, a tattered blanket revealing a metal arm, but no Winter Soldier attached to it. He then uncovered his winter coat just enough to show the small boy..with no left arm.

“Holy shit.”

Big grey blue eyes stared at him and small pink lips twisted into a frown. “I wan’ Steeb!”

Brock looked around the small room. “Where _is_ Rogers?”

He watched Jack bounce a very unhappy Winter Soldier in one arm, his flesh hand scrubbing tears away across round flushed cheeks and sniffling as he tried to hide back under Jack’s winter coat and press close to his body.

“He ran off like a bat outta hell when I got there and took Bucky from him. Said he knows where they’d probably be, I couldn’t go after him with the kid in my arms and to make sure no one got that arm, but we just might have another problem if he just jumps in there headfirst like Barnes. I gotta go after him, it’s only us here in the middle of f- ” He looked down at Bucky, “Fudge town Siberia, and he’s gonna freeze in this place.”

Brock frowned and then he realized, brows going into his hair, “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second ‘ere, I ain’t no good at babysittin’. Why can’t _you_ take ‘im to the safehouse and I go after Rogers. After all I outrank ya and he seems to have taken a shine to ya.”

Jack sets Bucky down on one of the small cots in their temporary camp, picking up the jacket that’s laying on the ground with bullet holes at the side and sticky with blood. Brock doesn’t wanna know where the agent who wore that last is now, Jack pulling it on and zipping it up. He watches him kneel down and pull the hood over Bucky’s head and smile kindly at him, wiping away worried tears for Steve and zipping him up in his own coat while he was barely able to keep his head out, practically swimming in it.

“You stay with Brock, I know he’s an idiot but he’ll take care of you. Gonna go find Steve for you, okay?”

Brock frowns at the soft _cooing_ voice Jack has for Barnes, he knows the guy’s a kid and that’s how some people sound but it makes him a little jealous, folding his arms tight over his chest watching Bucky peer at Brock and then at Jack again like he was only trusting him because Jack was telling him to. This was bullshit.

Jack gave him a smile before he turned around back to him and was all business again, “Because, I can track him. You can’t.”

Scoffing, Brock shook his head, “He’s what? The equivalent to a raging elephant on steroids or somethin’? Ain’t no one gonna lose track of _Captain America_ when his boyfriend’s lookin’ like America’s greatest treasure is getting dicked down by a _toddler_.”

The sound of irritated huffing sounds turned them in Bucky’s direction, eyes glaring at Brock and trying to project the best murder glare he could muster, but coming from a child, it looked like he had to go to the bathroom.

“You don’ make fun of Steeb! I hate you!”

“I hate you too!” Brock shot back and Bucky’s head jerked back like he was slapped, staring up at Jack as green eyes were boring into Brock.

“Brock- ”

“ _No_! I ain’t gonna do it, you take Winter. I’ll go track Rogers.”

“Jack I wan’ go wit you!” Bucky whined pitifully, eyes getting all glassy again. 

Jack turned and ate it right up, “Kiddo, I can’t take you with me. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt alright? You go with Brock because _he will take you_ somewhere warm or else he won’t see his favorite toy for a few weeks, maybe a couple months because he’s being mean.”

A small smile crept across Barnes’ face at the idea Brock was getting something taken away, “He will? What toy?”

Jack softly pet the top of Bucky’s head, “Oh a toy he likes, _he really likes_. Makes him real happy whenever I bring it out for him to play and- ”

“ -Alright stop! I get it Rollins, _I get it_.” Brock snaps out and turns away, grabbing one of the backpacks and stuffing as many supplies as he could carry, muttering _asshole_ under his breath, threatening to keep his dick away for _months_. Fuck off. 

When Jack’s ready to take off, he holds Bucky huddled up in his coat against Brock’s back and loops one arm sleeve over his shoulder and the other under Brock’s other arm like a makeshift sling. He doesn’t know how he closes up the bottom of the coat but he assumes it’s tied up in some way where Bucky’s face is only visible if he looked out, the fur lined hood covering him entirely for the most part.

He stands in front of him but Jack’s fussing over keeping Bucky warm, giving him smiles to keep him calm so he doesn’t start crying again for Steve and slips a black ski hat over messy long brown hair, “Keep this on until Brock tells you it’s okay to take it off yeah? It’s gonna be cold and windy out there for a little while but he’ll get you warmed up, I promise.”

Brock watches him as he’s consoling Bucky and giving him instructions to be good and as mad as he is, he’s a little warm at just how sweet he is to Barnes as a kid. He’s overly affectionate and keeps his voice soft, smiling more that he’s seen him smile in a day and it’s different if not something Brock doesn’t mind getting used to if they had something like this.

Gloves are too big for Bucky’s tiny hand, but Jack managed to find a clean pair of socks and actually cut them in half to slip the ends of both pairs over it to protect him. The kid’s scrunching his nose at a sock sitting on his hand but not refusing Jack. 

“You stay under the hood okay? Brock needs his hands, he can’t be covering your head all the time.” 

Bucky nods quietly under his bundled warmth, pressing his socked hand to Jack’s cheek, “You bing Steeb back?”

The way Jack smiled kind of took Brock’s breath away, fond and sweet like when they were in bed and happy just laying there, Brock’s ears feel warm and suddenly too overheated. He nods to the kid, patting the little hand, “Yeah kiddo, I’ll bring Steve back.”

Brock shifts Bucky’s weight against his back just to get used to him.

“You got him?”

He grunts out an affirmation, avoiding Jack’s heavy gaze as he checks his weapons. 

“Hey,” He hesitates when a hand presses warm and solid against his shoulder, glancing up to olive colored eyes this time around, and their foreheads meet up. “Keep him warm, safe. He’s still Barnes even if he doesn’t remember us.”

Sighing stubbornly, Brock grips at Jack’s coat, tight and fierce, “Don’t mess it up. I can’t be babysittin’ no kid while you go have all the fun.”

Jack smiled wide, nodding against him, “Sure. I’ll be back quick.” 

Jack pulls him in close and they share a quick but firm kiss before he pulls away. Brock waits for him to take off before he retrieves his Shield map and starts the long trek to the underground safehouse.


End file.
